


This Other Darkness

by Metz



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Blood Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mind Control, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 08:59:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16531475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metz/pseuds/Metz
Summary: Written in 2008 for a Fic exchange. I think the summary below is the prompt that I was given.When Ianto begins acting strangely, craving blood, becoming violent, Jack must enter Cardiff's underworld to find a solution. But does Ianto want to be saved?Obviously Canon-divergent. There was never a sequel even though I intended one. Like many of my works it nods in places to Classic and New Who.If you enjoy reading, please leave a comment :)





	1. Prologue

_I should have known_ , Jack thinks, as he cradles Ianto in his arms oblivious to the water. _I should have known *something*_. He’s soaked, and Ianto’s hands, red raw from scrubbing, grip his sodden shirt. “It’s okay,” Jack murmurs into Ianto’s hair. “It will be okay. We’ll fix this.”

Owen appears at the door, taking in the scene with one glance. If he’s disturbed by seeing Jack fully clothed in a bath, holding a naked Ianto, he doesn’t –for once- show it.

“Ah, Jack… a word?”

“What is it?”

Owen gestures with his head, what he has to say isn’t for Ianto’s ears. Jack nods, and tilts Ianto’s chin until he meets his gaze. “I’ll be right back, okay.”

Ianto nods dumbly, and as Jack climbs out of the water he takes the  nail brush and the bottle of bleach with him.

“Owen,” Jack says.

Owen makes one, brief, expression at the water dripping from Jack onto the floor of Ianto’s living room. “Found something.”

“Yes?”

“Not pretty.”

 “And....”

“Cat with its throat torn out. By human teeth.”

“You think….?”

“None of the blood in this flat is human, Jack.”

“Well that’s something to be grateful for at least.”

“Frankly, I always wondered which one of us was going to lose it first.”

 “Enough,” Jack says. “Ianto hasn’t lost it.”

 “When most people fancy a snack they call for pizza. God forbid, sometimes they even eat Pot noodles. They don’t eat Tiddles from number 42.”

“He’s not lost it,” Jack says. “Something's DONE this to him.”

 “Are we taking him in?”

“I think we have to.”

“Good. I’ll go put the plastic sheeting down in the SUV, otherwise it will smell of wet Harkness for weeks.”


	2. 48 hours earlier

“Anything your side, Tosh?” Jack shines his torch down another dark sewer, and rests for a moment with his back against the wall.

 “Nothing.”

 “Gwen? Owen?”

“ Nothing here Jack.”

“This place should be weevil central,” Owen says. “Where the hell are they?”  

 “Ianto?” Silence. “Ianto?” Silence. “Can anyone else reach Ianto?”

A flurry of attempted messages. It’s Gwen who answers him directly. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“He was in the North West section. We’ll double back and look for him. We’ll meet back at the junction under the Council offices. Go CAREFULLY.”

Jack taps the headset, and tries again as the rest of the team stand ankle deep in drainage water, looking at him. They are all concerned, they have every right to be. The spate of animal attacks should have been weevils. Should have been. But there’s not a weevil in sight and that means it’s something else…

“Jack, do you think….” Tosh begins, but he cuts her off with a glare. They’re all thinking it and he doesn’t need to have it stated. _Doesn’t want to have it stated_. 

Jack opens his mouth to speak, when the sound of splashing echoes through the tunnels. Jack pulls his Webley sharply up to his ear as Ianto stumbles into the junction, blinking in the light of 4 high beam torches.   

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, I got a bit lost.”

Jack sighs in relief. “We could have shot you!”   

“Radio?” Owen puts in, gesturing at his ear. “You know, for a _reason_.”

“Sorry,” Ianto says again, handing the earpiece to Tosh with an apologetic look on his face. “It could do with fixing.”

“Tosh glowers. “They are waterproof and shock proof.”

 “Not when you tread on them, it seems. I thought I heard something coming so I ducked into an alcove – found myself stuck in a disused air raid shelter with my radio on one side, and a confused cat on the other. Took me a few minutes to get out again. By which point the best of Cardiff’s drainage. system had rather done for the hardware. ”

Jack hides the grin behind a scowl. “I’ll look forward to the report on that.”

“I didn’t get a statement from the cat. Should I go back?” Ianto smiles brightly, in the way Jack has come to realise means _I am very sorry I have done wrong, see me defuse the situation with a disarming attempt at humour_.

“I think we can leave that for today,” Jack says. “Although it might have a better idea of what’s going on down here than we do. Lets get out of here.”

 

\---------

 

Jack looks at the object on his desk.  He wants to pick it up again, but he’s tried that- twice. Each time it’s hurt- physically hurt- to pick it up. He’d resorted to tongs to get it out of the anonymous box it had come in. _I should give it to Tosh_ , he thinks. _But how can I?_

It isn’t complete; torn from whatever it was part of by forces equally unknown. It looks like steel, except when the light catches it –just so- and it shimmers with a green iridescence. The surface is carved, with circles and delicate lines, a pattern both familiar and disturbing.

 He picks it up again, and it sings to him, a wordless song that turns into a scream as it burns into his nerve endings. He tries to hold on, but he can bear it only seconds before he drops it back onto the desk with a hiss of pain.

“Everything all right, sir?” Ianto says.

“Fine,” he looks up, to see his Ianto’s expression of concern. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough. What is it?”

“Nothing… “

“Nothings don’t hurt,” Ianto says. He reaches to touch the metal, but Jack stays his hand.

“Don’t,” said Jack. His tone is sharper than he intended, and Ianto looks ever so slightly wounded. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“All 24 hours of it,” Ianto says. With two strides he’s standing behind Jack, his hands pressing against the muscles Jack didn’t realise ached. “Can I interest you in a back rub?”

Jack smiles.

Ianto’s fingers work deeper and Jack turns his attention back to the object. He picks up a pencil, and flips it over. On this side, it looks almost – organic, the lines less etched, running across the surface like the imprint of leaves. 

Contemplating, he re-reads the label on the box it came in. _"Jack Harkness"_

 It had been waiting on the tourist office doorstep when they’d come back from the sewers. Tosh had scanned it before they’d gone within three metres of it, and found it harmless. Jack had opened the lid, closed it quickly, and taken it into his office. The artefacts of that particular long dead world had no business around his team.   He knew Gwen would be growling that he never TOLD them ANYTHING, so he sent her home. Owen had been too busy taking casts of the bites in the victim that had sparked the fruitless weevil hunt. And Tosh, disappointed to have lost out on something alien to investigate, was nevertheless too polite to comment. Which left only Ianto.  

 Normally, the gentle hands would have half melted him. He’d have turned in his seat, dragged Ianto’s mouth to his, and they’d have ended up naked on the floor, or up against the safe, or somewhere.  But tonight too many memories have come back, too many things he can’t share because they had never been.  He reaches up to stay Ianto’s touch.

 “Go home, get some sleep. Come in all bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow.”

Ianto gives a little smile, and brushes a light kiss on Jacks forehead.  “See you.”

 Once Jack is sure he’s gone, he turns off the CCTV coverage of his office. He reaches for the object and braces himself. He grasps it, resolving not to let go until it yields its secret to him.

 It kills him first.


	3. Now

“Anything?” Jack says, leaning on the rail of the autopsy bay.

 “Nothing more than when you asked me 30 seconds ago.” Owen looks up from the microscope, removes the slide of Ianto's blood, and walks past Jack up to his desk, slotting it into another device. “Give me some time.”

 “Have you seen anything like it before?”

 “Only in psychiatric units, and a few sordid murder cases.” Owen says. “I've ruled out Rabies, syphilis, brain tumour and all the known chemical agents. The most probable cause of this is some kind of psychotic episode.”

 “No.”

“So you keep saying. I wasn't aware you were medically qualified.”

“What about hypnosis?” 

“You want me to call Derren Brown?” Owen fiddles with the keyboard, stands up again and walks into Jack.  “It may surprise you to hear this, but I am actually trying to help. You're in my way.”

“Fine,” Jack says. “Keep working.”

 

Ianto is lying on his side on the raised section of the cell, his suit jacket bundled up under his head as a makeshift pillow. Jack walks quietly, not wanting to disturb him if he is asleep, but Ianto stirs when Jack stands at the door.

 

“Jack?” Ianto says.

 “I thought you were sleeping.”

 “I have been, on and off.”  he says, sitting up. “What time is it?”

 “About six.”

 “If you want to send some files down, I can index from here as well as anywhere.” Ianto smiles faintly.  “You know, keep busy.”

 “I'll think about it,” says Jack. “Can I get you anything else?”

 “I'm starving.”

 Jack looks at the barely nibbled sandwiches. “You don't eat your meat, you don't get any pudding.”

 “I hate tuna,” says Ianto, by way of explanation.

 “I'll see what I can do. ”

 Ianto says nothing for a while, stares blankly at the tuna. Finally he looks up.

 “What did _I_ do, Jack?”

 “You didn't hurt anyone... .”

 “So the blood...”

 “No-one's hurt,” Jack says again.

 “So you keep saying, but I'm having a hard time believing it.”

 Jack sighs and dilutes the truth. “Owen thinks you attacked an animal. Which explains where the blood came from so you can stop wondering if you've hurt anyone, okay?”

 “Oh, God,” Ianto says, and covers his face with his hands. “I tried to _eat_ it, didn't I? What's happening to me, Jack?”

 Jack won't let himself ignore the confusion on Ianto's face, so he reaches up and opens the door just enough to slip inside.  Sitting next to him,  Jack takes his hand and gently runs his thumb over his fingers. “We'll work it out.”

 “What do Gwen and Tosh think?”

 “I've got them doing some legwork on a different matter,” Jack says, “I'll tell them when they come in.”

 “I have to tell you something.” Ianto doesn't look up. “I lied to you yesterday.  I just...”

 “What?”

 “I just couldn't wake up... like I hadn't slept all night. Do you think I ... did something then as well?”

 “No,” says Jack. “You didn't, you'd have known.” 

 “I only knew this morning because I woke up lying on my bathroom floor covered in something else's blood.”

 “Stop thinking about it,” Jack says. “We'll fix this.”

 “You keep saying that. But what if you can't?”

 Jack pulls Ianto against his chest and holds him there, resting his chin on the top of his head. “I'll find someone who can,” he says. _If there **is** anyone, but damn if I won't tear this planet apart to find out_.  Ianto's body tenses, and Jack becomes aware that he's shaking. “Ianto?” he says.

 “Please, let go of me and leave,” Ianto says, quietly.

“What?”

“I mean it, Jack.”  

Jack lets go,but stays where he is. “What's going on in that head of yours?” he asks. 

Ianto jerks away and goes to the far corner of the cell, where he presses his back against the wall.  “I....” When Jack stands up and takes a step towards him, Ianto puts his hand up. “I'm not fucking joking.”

“Ianto?”

A feral snarl distorts Ianto's expression, and he looks at Jack through glinting, lidded eyes. “So hungry,” he growls. “So... much... life in you.” 

_He's not hypnotised, he's possessed!_ Jack backs up through the door and slams it closed just as Ianto leaps for him. With a cry of anguish, Ianto sinks to the floor and rests his head up against the reinforced panel. Jack follows him down, pressing his hand against the barrier between them. Ianto looks through, his eyes streaming tears. “Oh God, help me, Jack,” he says.

 “I'll be back.” _And what else happened yesterday..._.  “I'll be back for you.”

 And he runs.


	4. 24 hours earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was Ianto up to?

“What time do you call this?” Jack says, folding his arms and looking down from the balcony. Ianto, late? 

“8.30,” he replies, looking up. “Or maybe 08.30. Half past eight?”

Jack starts to wend his way down the stairs.“You’ve been here at exactly half past seven every morning since you started working here.”

“That’s not exactly true.” 

As Jack draws level with him, he can see the tell tale signs that Ianto hasn’t slept. Not in and of itself unusual. That hasn’t stopped him being on time. 

“It was the Knitting Circle bus,” Ianto says, matter of factly. “The over 70’s can be a surprisingly lecherous lot. I’m sure Doris from number 22 copped a quick feel while I was changing the tyre.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me jealous.”

“Always.” Ianto smiles at him. “I'll put the coffee on, shall I?”

“You do that.”

“Sorry I’m late guys,” Owen says, as he wanders in. “Is there any coffee?”

“On its way,” says Ianto, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I do wish you’d leave him alone on work nights Jack,” Owen says.

Jack raises his eyebrows. “Wasn't me,” he says, and goes back to his desk.

By twelve, they are all on a trawler in the bay, screaming at each other through the rain and trying to retrieve a Gurian escape pod before the engine self destructs and takes most of Cardiff with it. It's a simple mission, only complicated by the disappearance of Gwen's engagement ring into a lobster. 

By seven, Jack is back at his desk staring at the artefact, Owen smells of fish, Gwen has gone home with a lobster and a sharp knife, and Tosh is drafting a schematic of the Gurian engine to sell to UNIT.

“It's something to do with him, isn't it?” Ianto says, as he places a cup of hot coffee beside the untouched cold one, and looks at the shard of metal with half concealed disapproval.

“No,” Jack says, just a little too quickly. The metal has the taste of Timelord all over it.

“Do you even know which him I mean?”

Jack takes a deep breath, because Ianto has two subtly different hims, one for the Doctor and one for John. Ianto isn't scared of John. “It's complicated.”

“What happened, Jack? What happened while you were gone?”

 _Saxon killed me, over and over. Drawing it out for weeks. Found everyone I had ever known, ripped them apart in front of me._

“It doesn't matter. I came back. ”

Ianto reaches over and brushes Jack's cheek with his fingertips. “Sometimes I wonder.”

Jack catches Ianto's hand, holding it against his cheek but not moving it. “What do you mean?”

“It doesn't matter,” says Ianto and smiles.

Jack brushes his lips against Ianto's palm, then gestures at the object. “I have to work out where this came from. Why someone would send it here.”

“I took the liberty of setting up an analysis of the wrapping,” Ianto says. “It's from a local company specialising in hand made, recycled paper. They sell it in a half dozen shops and on the Internet.”

_I don't want you involved! I don't want you hurt. This is none of your business._ “Thank you, Ianto,” Jack grins. “What would I do without you?”

“Drown in a sea of filing and onanism,” Ianto replies.

“Probably true.” Jack smiles again. 

“Speaking of filing, I don't suppose you know why we have an extensive collection of Victorian pornography?”

“We do?”

“Disturbingly extensive.”

Jack knows what Ianto is suggesting. He wants Jack to say... Show me this pornography of which you speak, or some such invitation. Somewhere in the back of Jack's mind Jack is screaming again while the world burns beneath the Valiant. “Maybe later,” he says, with a wink.

He hears Ianto sigh just a little. “Right. I'll be off then. If you want the results, they're in your in-box.”

Jack watches as Ianto walks away, then turns back to his desk.

I'm being played.

\---------

Ianto curses as he realises someone's slashed the tyres on his car. For a moment he contemplates going back in to the Hub and looking out the repair kit – they'd taken to keeping it on hand after a spate of delinquency. But it is raining steadily as the storm from the afternoon moves inland, and he really, really can't be bothered. It's a quick walk to the nearest Taxi, he is hungry and in no mood to get home soaking wet. As he crosses the Plas, head down and collar up, he collides with another pedestrian.

“Sorry,” Ianto says, looking up.

“That's all right, Ianto,” the man says, with a cultured English accent. “Don't mention it.”

Ianto pauses for a moment. How does he know my name? Ianto is sure they've met before. Platinum blonde hair, cut to the level of his sharp jaw, bright, but brown eyes contrasting his light skin. A long leather coat in what Ianto thinks of as the 'Matrix style', and he's waiting patiently as Ianto finishes his brief study. 

“I don't mean to be rude, “ Ianto says. “But have we met?”

The man laughs. “Forgive my manners, you won't remember me. Thorne Gilmour.”

He holds out his hand and Ianto cautiously shakes it, confident that if something happens he's easily in range of the Hub's cameras. Not that anyone's watching. 

“I'm sorry I really don’t remember..”

Thorne smiles. “Let's get out of this rain, shall we?”

*** 

“So,” says Thorne, as he returns to the table with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “This is better, isn't it?”

“It's drier,” Ianto concedes. He picks up the glass Thorne has just filled and looks at it.

“It's not drugged,” Thorne says. “I'm not that kind of man.”

“Sorry, just.... habit I suppose. How did you know my name?”

“You told me.”

Ianto puzzles for a moment. There might have been a night or two last year when he had been very, very drunk... but no, he always remembered names, didn't he?. 

“When? Was I drunk?”

Thorne laughs. “You might have been.”

“Oh,” Ianto says. “That might explain it.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Why you were storming across the Plas?”

“It's nothing. Rough day at work.”

“You work late.”

“Sometimes.” Ianto still hesitates from drinking.”Look I... I'm sort of seeing someone at the moment so...”

Thorne gives a disappointed smile. “Aaaaaah.” Then a more hopeful “Only sort of?”

“I really should be going.” Ianto puts the glass back down on the table and starts to stand up. “I'll pay you back for the sco...”

“Please stay,” says Thorne, catching Ianto's gaze as he does so.  


Ianto sits back down. One drink won't hurt. It's not as if he's not allowed to go out and enjoy himself once in a while. Maybe flirt a little to make himself feel better. He picks up the glass. “Cheers,” he says.  
\---------

“It's amazing how much it's changed,” Thorne says, looking out over Cardiff from their terrace bar vantage point.

“You've been away?” Ianto finishes another glass of scotch and wonders exactly when he got quite this... intoxicated.

“For a long time.”

“Were you born here?”

“Good lord no,” Thorne laughs.”But I grew rather fond of it.”

Ianto turns roughly north and points. “I was born right over there,” he says. Moving his hand he points again. “And I live right over there.”

“That's a small space to live your entire life in.”

“I travelled a bit; worked in London....”

“Really? So did I. Near Canary Wharf- do you know it?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

“Ah,” Thorne says, and rests his hand on Ianto's shoulder. “You're one of the ones who hasn't passed it off as some sort of hallucination. I'm sorry.”

“Still, “Ianto begins, but realises he has no idea how to finish the sentence.

“Still, it's a fine night and we're safe here.” Thorne slides his hand down Ianto's arm until he's resting his palm on his hand. Ianto leans back a against the taller man, and guiltily enjoys the contact through the haze of alcohol. He laces his fingers with Thorne's, only then realising the flare of excitement in his stomach.

“This 'sort of' relationship you're in...?” Thorne whispers.

“Mmmmm?”

“How 'sort of' would that be?”

“It's convenient,” Ianto says, wondering where the annoyance in his voice is coming from. “Convenient to him, maybe. Until something comes up at work, or from his past or...” Thorne's lips brush the side of Ianto's neck, and Ianto breathes in hard. 

“Should I stop?” Thorne says.

“No. Don't stop.”

Thorne wraps his other arm round Ianto, and presses his palm lightly against his chest. “Your heart is racing...”

“I'm.... not surprised.... with you.... doing .... that.”

It's not that Ianto hasn't had practice fending off Jack's roving hands, but somehow, he lets Thorne run his fingertips lower until they brush his growing erection before stopping him.  
“I should very much like to kiss you,” Thorne says, still teasing the side of his neck. “Among other things.”

Ianto turns and awkwardly presses his lips against Thorne's. The taller man's fingers press into Ianto's lower back, holding him firm against his body. Thorne's tongue eases into Ianto's mouth, and Ianto responds to the wonderful sensation of this new body so close and tight against his own. _God this feels good. Hot, and good..._

“Are you all right, Ianto?” Thorne says, as Ianto pauses to breathe.

“I'm fine... absolutely fine I'm... absolutely fine.”

Thorne smiles, and takes his mouth again, nipping hard at his lips. 

Ianto's thoughts rush him with images. _Thorne entwined with him, moaning as Ianto licks traces of sweat and blood from Thorne's hands. Ianto's fingers, drawing blood, Thorne laughing softly, his nails scraping along Ianto's thigh._ A feral need fills him, and he responds in kind, kissing and biting until they're gasping for breath and he can taste the metallic tang of iron. 

Ianto reaches up to touch his lips, suddenly losing his drunkenness as he sees the red smear. “Fuck.”

“It's all right,” says Thorne. “I'm clean.”

“That's not the ...” Ianto begins, still staring at the blood. He doesn't remove himself from Thorne's embrace though, because it is all right. It really is. Except that it isn't. _I'm hard and horny as hell and damn Jack. Damn._ “I'm not usually....”

Thorne pulls him close. “Does it matter what you're not, right now? I want you. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Ianto says. _I want you, I trust you... I want to do... things. I want to do such things.... and you'd let me, you'd want me to but... but you're not Jack._ “That's why... I have to leave now.” 

He pulls away from Thorne, who lets him go. “Not so 'sort of' then,” he says. “Not for you.”  
“I don't know. Thank you for... a great evening.”  
“My pleasure. Come find me later if anything changes.” A glass collector appears from nowhere and wanders between them. The terrace, previously empty except for them, is suddenly full. Ianto loses sight of Thorne in the crowd.

\-------

“Didn't you go home?” Jack says, when he finds Ianto sitting on the sofa inside the hub.

“No,” said Ianto. “I've been sitting here all night. I want to talk to you.”

“Can it wait until morning?”

“It is morning.”

Jack looks at his watch, “By an hour and three minutes.”

Ianto stands up. “There was a man,” he says. “I bumped into him outside. He was ...”

“Hot?” Jack puts in.

“Very. I got drunk. There was kissing...”

“Well good for you,” Jack interrupts with a broad smile. “Does he have a brother?”

“Stop it,” Ianto snaps. “It didn't go anywhere. I thought about you and I couldn't. My shagging another man wouldn't make you care though, would it? You'd probably be happy for my sexual development... or ask to watch.”

“Ianto...” Jack moves to put his hand on Ianto's arm, but Ianto pulls away.

“I'm talking, Jack. I like what we have, and most of the time it works. Thing is, sometimes- every time-I want to be with you, you're so absorbed in- whatever- that you don't notice. That thing on your desk, whatever it is. It feels like it's taking you somewhere away from me and I don't like it.”

Jack folds his arms and glares. “Are you jealous of the thing? Because it's work, Ianto. That's what we do here, we work.”

“If it's work, why isn't it out here, with everyone working on it?”

“Because....”

“Because? Because of what? It pisses me off that you keep everything hidden.” Ianto can see Jack is about to begin the 'there are things I've seen' talk, and he cuts him off. “Don't start. That's actually okay. That's you. That's Torchwood. I deal with it. But I can't ask for your attention unless you offer it and if I want your attention, I'm asking for more than you're prepared to give. That's what hurts, and that's why this isn't working. Not right now.”

“Finished?”

“I don't know. Are we?”

“What do you want me to say?” snaps Jack. “That I'm furious you nearly had sex with someone else? Do you want me to be angry with you?” Ianto actually takes a step back, before Jack's voice softens, and he uncrosses his arms. “The operative word is nearly. You didn't. You came back here and that tells me everything I need to know.”

Ianto tries not to interpret Jack's smile as smugness. “Tell me you're glad I came back.”

“Did you think I wouldn't be?”

“To be honest, I didn't know what to think past turning up and shouting for a bit.”

“Did we just have our first row?”

“Tell me you're glad, Jack.”

This time, when Jack reaches to touch Ianto's shoulder, Ianto lets him. “Yes. I'm glad you came back. Now why don't we...”

Ianto pushes Jack so he falls back onto the sofa, and sits across his lap before he can get up. “This is me, wanting your attention.”

“You got it,” Jack says, leaning up for a kiss.

Ianto stays him. “Do you trust me, Jack?”

“Why? What do have planned?”

“Nothing planned,” Ianto says. Thought about, not planned. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the thought of controlling Jack, teasing him, torturing him. Ianto reaches into his pocket for the tie he discarded earlier that evening. He pulls it taut between his fingers with an audible snap.

“Is it kinky Thursday already?” Jack grins, and pulls Ianto firmly onto his hips.

Ianto smiles, but says nothing, running the tie through his fingers before leaning in to nip gently at Jack's throat. 

“Ianto...”

Ianto leans back, and tips Jack's chin with his fingers. “Full attention,” he whispers, and moves to wrap the strip of silk round Jack's wrists. Jack tenses, just a little.

“I thought you trusted me?”

Jack brushes his hand. “It's complicated.”

Ianto shakes his head. “Isn't it always. Never mind...” he moves to put the tie back in his pocket, only to find Jack's hand in the way.

“Did I tell you to stop? I trust you. Tie my hands.”

Jack is shaking as Ianto loops the tie round Jack's wrists. He loops the fabric round itself and ties it off, somehow he doubts a bow will entirely match his mood. Then he lifts Jack's wrists to his mouth and kisses the exposed skin. “Are you okay?”

Jack says nothing, nods briefly and lets his eyes show his trust.

Ianto feels heat rising inside him, flushing his face and a few other places. Jack straightens his back and runs his tongue along Ianto's neck, tracing the line of his collar and down the few open buttons. Ianto reaches down and undoes the rest, pulling Jack's head in against his chest and bracing himself against the wall as Jack's teeth graze across his nipples. Jack moves lower, tugging at Ianto's trousers and - how the hell does he do that? - unfastening them with his tongue. When Ianto looks down, Jack grins back up at him and licks from the base of his cock to the tip. 

“While you're down there...” says Ianto, realising his plan to tease Jack has just flown right through the lift exit.

“What?” says Jack, all mock innocence. “I'm completely at your mercy.”

Ianto takes hold of his cock and presses it against Jack's lips. “Suck.”

He moans as Jack takes him into his mouth slowly, enclosing him in wet and heat and the slight thrill of teeth. He can't help but push deeper, catch Jack's hair in his fingers and hold him roughly against him. Jack's hesitation is momentary, before he takes Ianto right to the back of his throat. 

“Oh God,” Ianto breathes, and rocks his hips desperately, aware the couch is trying to give out under them but not caring. He misses feeling Jack's skin against him, misses his touch, but looking down and realising they're both fully clothed, he's fucking Jack's mouth and Jack can't do a damn thing about it, tips him over the edge.

Ianto leans his head against the brickwork, shaking as Jack swallows, and finishes him with an excruciating final pass of his tongue.

Ianto's legs give out, and Jack pushes himself up just in time to Ianto to end up on his knees. Ianto fastens his trousers and nuzzles into Jack's neck, a little hazy and strangely- still wanting. He lies still for a while, watching the slight beat of Jack's carotid.. I wonder how much force it takes, to go through an artery. I wonder why I'm thinking that. Am I tired? If I'm tired, I should sleep.

“Wanna get pizza?” Jack says. 

Hungry. So very hungry. Ianto slowly tries to reclaim his tie from Jack's wrists. “Actually, we need to watch the expense account,” he says. “At least until the end of March.”

“You could tie me to the medical table and tease me with it,” Jack says, hanging onto Ianto's tie.

Ianto assumes Jack means the pizza, but he is never completely sure. “To be honest, Jack, I really need to get home. And besides...” he snatches his tie back, but holds it up, smirking as he slides off Jack's lap and stands up. “Always leave while they want more, right?”

He strides out of the Hub, followed by Jack's grin.


	5. Now, again.

  

“I need to see last night's CCTV coverage of the Plas,” Jack says, noticing but hardly caring that Gwen and Tosh have literally just walked through the entrance.

 “Jack, need a word...” Owen says.

  “One minute. Tosh?”

 “Have we missed something?” Gwen says, rolling her eyes. 

 “Could say that, yeah,” says Owen.

 “Well? It's a bloody long drive to Barmouth and back, particularly for  a batch of dodgy toothpaste. What's the excitement?”

 “Toothpaste?” Owen is distracted.

 “Which wasn't even dodgy,” says Tosh, opening the CCTV footage while Jack taps his fingers impatiently. “The alien eggs turned out to be food colouring.”

 “Story for another time,” says Owen, remembering what he is supposed to be doing. “Jack!”

Jack waves him silent and concentrates on Tosh's console. “See if you can pick up Ianto leaving about 7.30 . Track him.”

 “Ianto?” says Tosh, shocked.

 “Oh my God,” says Gwen. “Has something happened to Ianto? Is that why he wasn't here when we left this morning?”

 “He's fine, “Jack says, dismissively, and peering over Tosh's shoulder.  “He's in the cells.”

 “He's in the... bloody hell, Jack.”  Gwen stands up and moves towards the cells. Jack intercepts.

 "He's fine,” he says. “Leave him be.”

 “JACK!” Owen says, finally standing in front of him and waving. Jack follows him to the edge of his desk.

 “Yes?” he asks.

 “There's a strange energy field in his blood,” Owen says, pointing to the monitor.  “It seems to be linked to a shape change in his haemoglobin. That's the molecule that carries oxygen. The globin is rewriting itself over time – when he came in it wasn't enough to notice- now it's about 45%. The new molecules are reinforcing and generating the energy... which in turn changes more globin. His cells are currently going into overdrive trying to synthesize the new protein.”

 “What's causing it?”

 “I have no idea. There's no unknown material in his body. Closest I could guess.... he's infected with some kind of alien energy. I need more samples to be sure, and I need to see if it's affecting his other systems. I can run some of the scans from up here.”

 “Found him,” says Tosh. Jack turns his attention to the other monitor on Tosh's desk.  “He leaves the tourist office at 7.34, spends some time inspecting the tyres on his car, then heads round the corner. We pick him up here.... where he stops for a while, seems to be talking to himself... then heads for the city centre.”

 “Talking to himself?” _Nothing about this is good._

 Tosh points. “Looks like it to me.”

 “Christ,” says Owen, suddenly.  “I don't fucking believe it.”

 “What?”

 Owen swivels the monitor to face Jack.  “Ianto's cell is empty.”

 Jack hits the base lock-down as Tosh abandons the external CCTV to focus on the internal systems. “I'm running the pattern recognition algorithm,” she says, “but I'm not getting anything.”

 “Not again,” Owen mutters under his breath and Jack shoots him a look.

 On Owen's monitor, Gwen wanders into view and stands opposite Ianto's cell. She activates her earpiece. “Why've we just gone into lockdown?”

 “Get back up here, Gwen,” Jack says. _Because I'm not sure he'll be able to stop himself..._

“Ianto's gone missing,” Tosh fills in.

 Gwen wrinkles her nose. “No he hasn't.”

“We've got the cell and you on CCTV,” Jack says.

“I've got the cell under my nose Jack. And Ianto's right here.”  She looks up at the camera and points at the cell.

 “What the hell is going on here?” Jack says. He snatches his gun from his office and heads into the cells.

 Ianto is standing by the door, looking puzzled. Gwen says nothing, just gestures and shakes her head. Jack stands in front of the cell, staring. Owen runs in and stands beside him

 “Tosh, anything?” Jack says.

 “I can see you, Owen and Gwen,” she says.  “But not Ianto.”

 “What's going on?” Ianto says.

 “Check for airborne hallucinogens, toxins, anything out of the ordinary,” Jack says.

“I'm getting nothing,” Tosh says.

 “Jack?” Ianto says. When Jack can't think of an answer that isn't- w _ho the hell_ are _you?_ Ianto looks at Gwen.

 “I don't know, Ianto,” Gwen says. “I only just got here. Jack?”

 Gwen is looking confused. Jack doesn't have an answer. Eventually Owen supplies one.

 “Ianto's turning into a vampire,” he says.

 “Ianto is NOT a vampire,” Jack turns on Owen.. “Vampires don't exist.”

 “I'm sorry,” Owen says. “Call it what you like. But he's going to have immense protein cravings with the changes to his biology. He was drinking blood for fuck sakes.”

 “Oh God,” says Gwen.

 “Look,” says Owen. “Strange energy, cravings for blood, cameras aren't seeing him. If I had a mirror I'd bet he won't show up in that, either. Tosh could work out a plausible reason. Maybe that energy throws out the EM fields.”

 “Twenty minutes ago you were convinced it was a mental illness.”

 “Twenty minutes ago he was still on the CCTV,” Owen says. “And I can't think of a single psychiatric condition that has 'doesn't appear on cameras' as a clinical sign.”

“But I can see him,” says Gwen. “And light is electro-magnetic, isn't it?”

 Jack can't quite believe what he's hearing, but something stirs in his mind and it's starting to make sense. _Why shouldn't a myth like that, an ancient myth, be alien in origin, like the Mara.._.  “Assuming...and by that I'm not agreeing, that you are right, how do we stop it?”

“No bloody idea,” says Owen.

 “Are we sure it's Ianto?” says Gwen. “I'm sorry Ianto, but are we certain it's really him?”

 “DNA matches. Knowledge test matches,” Owen says. “I don't know any way to be surer without an EEG, and frankly I don't think that will work.”

 Ianto sits heavily on the cell's bunk. “I wonder if you'd all be so kind as to talk about me somewhere else.”

 Jack looks at him, disturbed by the aching feeling inside his chest and his sense of fear. He wants to hold him. _No no no, I can't think properly if I'm thinking like this._   _I was trying to protect you from that thing on the desk while the threat was somewhere else. Was that the point? Who'd know enough about me to do that?_   Jack runs his mental list and it is very small, and mostly marked off as deceased. He can't bring himself to believe any of the living ones would do something like this.

 “ Owen, keep working on it. Gwen, you and Tosh keep working on the CCTV, I want to know exactly where he went last night, and anyone he talked to.”

  “Where are you going?” Owen says.

  Jack looks sadly at Ianto. “Watch him,” Jack says.  “And I mean _watch_ him. With your eyes. And somebody buy some steak.”

  “Jack.....”Owen begins, but Jack isn't listening.

 

\---------

It's red and gold and dark. It smells of candles and age, and the spot lamps throw light across flock wallpaper. It looks as though it hasn't changed in a hundred years, and Jack knows it has not. It still gives him the creeps, this private club for Cardiff's human weird. The faces change through the years, all except one. She is as unchanging as its purpose.

Jack pauses on the threshold, looking down angrily at the hand of the door man, pressed flat against his chest. “I said, back off,” Jack growls.

“It's all right,” says the girl at the table. “I'm expecting him.”

The doorman steps back, and Jack moves on to approach the girl's table. A man with long, blonde hair leaves his seat for him. As the man passes he smiles, darkly seductively and Jack lets himself return the smile. “She's all yours,” the man says, with a strong, English accent. “I must say, she's very good.” 

“So I'd heard,” Jack says.

“Goodnight,” the man says, and sweeps out of the room. 

For a moment Jack feels several pairs of eyes swing from the stranger to look at him, then return to their business. Jack sits. “You know why I'm here?”

She looks at him, and he sees, for the first time, something akin to fear. She turns over two of the tarot cards onto the table. _Lovers; inverted. Two men holding hands. The Jack of Swords_.  
“Your lover is falling into darkness,” she says. “He has been touched by something older than you or I.”

Jack picks up the Jack of swords. “Do you keep that up your sleeve just for when I come round?” 

“Like you, it is here when it needs to be,” she says. “But, it isn't me you need to speak to, Captain.”

“I figured someone here might know a thing or two about ....”

She presses her fingers to her lips. “Shhh.” She turns another card; _The Devil. It takes the form of a long haired blond man with a seductive smile_. 

Jack leaps to his feet. “Thank you...”

She shakes her head. “Don't thank me.”

_I must be crazy. Would be crazy if I didn't know a rift could change you. If I didn't know the psychic potential of the human race. If I hadn't seen._

He jogs up the basement steps, catching up to the man, and catching his shoulder. “Excuse me.”

“Hello again,” he says, with the same smile. “How can I help you?”

“She said I should speak to you,” Jack says. 

“Indeed? That shouldn't surprise me,” he says. “That would make you the handsome Captain with the questions about Vampires.”

“Jack Harkness.”

“Thorne Gilmour,” the man says, and shakes his hand. “A pleasure to meet you. ”  
Jack looks up. It's starting to rain again. “Let's talk.”


	6. Thorne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds a Vampire, and Ianto runs away

 

 

Ianto stares at the wall. _I'm so hungry... so hungry. So hungry._ They'd fed him steak, but it felt wrong in his mouth, wrong and tasteless. _Oh God._   He draws his knees up to his chest and hugs them. _Stop it. Stop it. Do something else. Don't think about it, find something else to think about. Think about Jack, think about how he felt last night, think about his mouth, making you come._ _The taste of his skin, the hot pulse of his blood... No!_

“No!”

He only realises he's spoken aloud when Gwen says. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he says.

“I'm so sorry,” she says.

“Is Jack back, yet?”

“No. But he will be. You know how he is with his secret plans.”

Ianto does his best to smile. “It could be worse, I suppose. I could be craving Marmite.”

Gwen laughs, but it sounds a little false. “Or gherkins.”

“There's nothing wrong with gherkins,” he says.  “My aunt used to pickle them. Rows and rows of jars of gherkins.”

  _Thorne offers his the skin of his throat, drawing Ianto's lips against him. Ianto bites, feeling the blood well into his mouth... he drinks, drinks hard, feeling Thorne's fingers rake his back. No! Damn it. No!_ Ianto turns and punches the wall. _I will not think about this._  

“Ianto?” Gwen says, concerned. “Ianto?”

 He ignores her. His hand hurts. Fucking hurts, if he's honest about it but he doesn't care. _And again. Into the wall. Again. Again. A.. No. Get off me!_

Gwen is dragging at his hands. “Ianto. Stop it. Owen! Tosh! Somebody get down here and help me!”

He pushes her away. “Leave me alone, Gwen.”

“We can sort this. It will be okay.”

He can almost _smell_ her concern. Her fear for him. Not for herself. He charges her against the wall, pinning her against the brick.“No it won't,” he says.  She is warm, so very warm, and now she's afraid _of_ him, her heart racing... her blood rushing so very close to the surface.  He leans in close, his lips brushing her throat, tasting the salt on her skin, then a sudden pain as she kicks at his knee.  For a moment he hesitates, and she runs, stumbling towards the open door. He catches her as she tries to run past him and throws her back against the wall. He snatches away her headset, throws it aside. “I'm sorry Gwen,” he says. _I don't want this. I don't want this_. “But I'm so hungry.”

She pushes at him.. “Ianto, please don't do this.”

He stands still for a moment, looking at his bloodied hand and Gwen's terrified face. He turns his head towards the open door. _If I run, they'll shoot me. But that way I won't be trying to eat them, won't be trapped here..._

“I'm sorry,” he says, pushing her onto the floor. He pauses only long enough to lock the cell door behind him.

Owen is just coming into the cell block when Ianto reaches the door. He gets one shot into his shoulder, but Ianto keeps coming, and lays him out with one punch before he can fire again.  Tosh is pointing a gun at him when he reaches the main body of the hub, but her eyes betray her. She won't shoot him. So instead he snatches the weapon off her and throws it into the water, dragging her with him onto the lift platform. “Take us out of lock-down,” he says.

“I can't,” she says. “Not from...”

“Yes, you can,” he says. “You installed the voice command unit last week.”

“Ianto you're hurting me.” Her eyes are wide, and she pushes at him.

“I know,” he says, his eyes stinging with tears. “I have to get out of here. I have to get away from you, all of you. I'm not safe. Please. Before I break your neck.”

_Come find me._

“Enable voice recognition.” Tosh reels off a sequence of words.

Around him, he hears locks disengage as the lift starts moving.  Beside him, Tosh is shaking. 

“When we get to the top,” he says. “I'm going to let you go. Don't follow me. Please... just don't.”

\------

 Jack isn't surprised to find that Thorne owns an expensive apartment in a converted building, complete with pretty receptionist. He'd figured Thorne for the sleek leather couches, expensive art and bare boards type, and he is not disappointed. There is a real fire beneath a modern mantle and large mirror; Jack stands beside it, looking at the silver candlesticks and feeling the pleasant warmth from the flames. 

 “Would you like a scotch?” Thorne says. “Or are you more of a brandy man?”

 “Just water.”

  _On reflection_ , Jack thinks, _it's obvious_. In fact, as he looks into the mirror, _in reflection_ it's obvious. Although Thorne stands beside him now, handing him the glass, it's only Jack in the mirror. _And I've just walked right into his house._   Jack's hand goes down to his gun.

 “Ah, I wondered how long it might take you,” Thorne says.

 “It must make it awkward when you have visitors.”

“You'd be surprised how many people simply don't look,” Thorne turns the coals in the fire with a poker, then sits down opposite the fire and sips from his glass. After a moment he gestures to the other end of the couch. “Please _sit_ down, Captain. You don't need the gun.”

Jack sits at the other end of the couch, and leans forward. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm sure the more instinctive question is _what_ ,” Thorne says. “I won't be offended.”

“I haven't got time to play around.”

“How disappointing.” Seeing Jack's scowl Thorne shakes his head and looks contrite. “Forgive me, force of habit.  I don't mean to belittle your concerns. Tell me what's happened and maybe I can help.

“We were investigating a series of attacks. On animals and people in the city.  It isn't any of the usual suspects.”

“And from that you came to the conclusion it was vampires? Not a first assumption for most people. Is your interest strictly professional?”

“A colleague...” _you can't say it, can you. Not in front of someone you find attractive. Not in front of a stranger. You lousy bastard_. “My _friend_... has been... infected. I need to know what you can tell me.”

“Where is your _friend_ now?”

“He's safe.”

“Well, that's a start.” Thorne sips from his glass.  “It isn't an infection in the classic sense. One doesn't get bitten by a Vampire and become one, like some kind of rabid animal.”

 _Owen should really be the one to be asking these questions_. “So what is it? Nano-genes? An alien force?”

“I don't know what a 'nano-gene' is,” Thorne says. “Although the name gives something away and may not be far from the truth. There may be some merit to your alien force theory... you are evidently a man who has seen many wonderful things, perhaps even real extra-terrestrials.” Jack nods.  “The truth is, I don't actually know _what_ it is, any more than a caveman could know what fire was, only that it was warm, and scared away animals.”

“I don't need to talk philosophy.”

“Then let me talk about effects. A Vampire is conceived when the spark – your alien energy - passes from one to another. In and of itself, the spark can start the process of change, but it can lay dormant for years, even decades. So to speed up the process the vampire who begins it gives a little of themselves- a little blood- to provide a template. The more blood that is given, the faster the change becomes.  The spark is sustained only by blood and the energy within it. In return, the spark changes the body to survive; speed, stamina, life beyond human norms.”

“How old are you?”

“Older than I look.”

“That's old hat.”

“Yes,” says Thorne. “But we both look rather good on it, don't you think?” He places his hand on Jack's shoulder and leans in. Jack tenses, expecting Thorne to try and kiss him _which should worry me more than it does_.

“Whatever you're about to do, don't,” Jack says.

Thorne wraps his hand round the back of Jack's neck and sniffs behind his ear. “He went for you, didn't he?”

Jack pushes him away. “Yes.”

“I'm not surprised,” Thorne sits back, and sips again on his brandy. “If I was young, afraid, reacting only on instinct to the life I sensed around me, I would have ripped your throat out in a second. He must like you a great deal to resist.”

“If I was young, afraid and less in need of your information, I'd wring your neck, slowly.”

“Ah,” Thorne says.  “You don't trust me.” 

“Can it be undone? The 'change'. Is it reversible?”

“That would depend. How far along is your... friend?”

“I don't know. He stopped showing up on camera a couple of hours ago.”

“That far?” Thorne seems surprised. “Then I'm sorry, but I doubt there is much you can do.”

“I won't believe that. I won't see him become a murderer.”

“I would have hoped you, of all people, would be less judgemental,” Thorne says.  “Human beings are so quick to label evil.”

“What do you mean?”

“Torchwood and I are not in exclusive circles.”

“I've seen enough evil,” Jack says. _Just why did the Devil's card have your face, I wonder._

“Then you have to realise that what I am is _not_ Evil _._ Vampires are children fighting in the playground. They only harm others because they have yet to learn not to.”

“Is this the speech about how awful it is to be a vampire?” Jack says, getting to his feet.  “Because I've seen that movie and I don't need to hear it.”

Thorne stands up and faces him with a flash of anger in his eyes. “Then what do you need to hear? That your friend is being driven mad by his need for blood and he will do anything to get it?  That sooner or later he will get it and when he does, when he drains enough normal, human blood, the change will complete?”

“I need to know how to stop it.”

“Why?” Thorne says.  “Why does it worry you so much?”

Jack hesitates, thoughts racing.  _Why does it, exactly? Why does it?_

“Are you worried he'll _leave_ you?”

Jack swings for Thorne, connecting with his jaw and sending him backwards a few paces. 

“I rather suppose I deserved that,” Thorne says, wiping his split lip.  “Consider me suitably chastened. I said there wasn't much _you_ could do . If you were to bring him to me... I might be able to withdraw the spark...”

“You could do that?”

“Of course,” says Thorne, and smiles. “I put it there in the first place.”

The Webley is in Jack's hand before he can think about it. “You son of a  bitch.”

Thorne casually picks up his brandy and sips it. “What are you going to do? I certainly can't help you if I'm dead.”

“I'm prepared to bet I can put enough bullets into you to keep you down and alive for long enough.”

“Are you?”

Jack isn't, but he's cut off from trying to think of a response, when his phone rings. He lifts it to his ear without taking his eyes off Thorne. “Go.”

It's Owen. “Why aren't you on your radio? We've got a problem.”

“Little busy right now.”

“Ianto escaped.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“He locked Gwen in the cells, knocked me out, and threatened to kill Tosh if she didn't open the roof for him.”

“Good. The important thing is none of you are hurt.”

“Tosh slipped a tracker on him, but she's having trouble keeping the signal through the energy field that keeps him off camera. We're getting intermittent contacts, but enough.  We're heading for the SUV now.”

“Stay where you are. I'll find him.”

“With more of us...”

“Stay where you are.  Keep researching. Leave Ianto to me.” He closes the phone and ignores it when it begins ringing again a second later. “You're going to help me find him.”

Thorne finishes the last of his brandy and smiles. “No need. He'll find his way to me”

 

    --------

 

Ianto has no idea where he's going, only that he's going there.   He doesn't know what is waiting, but he wants it. He needs it. _It will make the pain go away._

  

  --------

 

“Would you like another drink while we wait? I'd hate to be a poor host.”

 “No, thanks,” Jack says. _I'm waiting. Waiting for you to give me the opportunity to take you down._

 “As you wish,” Thorne pours himself another drink. His back is turned only for a moment, but Jack takes a chance, leaping forward and pinning Thorne to the ground, pulling the cuffs from his pocket and snapping one side around Thorne's wrist. Thorne struggles beneath him, snatching his hand out of Jack's grasp, and scrabbling forwards. Jack bears down, but Thorne is fast, _damn fast_ , turning and locking his fingers round Jack's throat. Jack breaks the hold, rolls away and up, bringing up the gun and firing, twice, into Thorne's shoulder.  Thorne   staggers backwards, ending up on his knees clutching at the wound. “Stay down,” Jack says. “or the next one's your heart.”

 “You will regret this,” Thorne says.

 “I might regret not aiming for your head.”

 “Possibly. I rather need it.”

 “I'm getting a little sick of you having the upper hand.”

 Thorne rolls his shoulder. “Do you feel better now you have resorted to projectile weaponry?”

 “Much better.”

 Then Thorne is somehow on him again, pushing him backwards. Jack fires, but the shot either goes wide or right through Thorne, Jack hasn't time to analyse as Thorne snatches the   gun from his hand and sending it skittering across the floor. Jack reaches blindly for a weapon, finding the crystal decanter he smashes it into Thorne's head. Thorne goes down and Jack runs for the gun.  He's almost there when something metallic impacts with his back and keeps moving, pinning him to the floorboards. _The fire poker_. Jack screams, until he feels Thorne standing on his back. 

 “We could have kept this civilised,” Thorne says. He twists the end of the poker, and Jack sinks his teeth into his hand rather than give Thorne the pleasure of another scream.  “We could have negotiated like grown ups. Come to a mutually beneficial solution. But no.” He moves the metal again, and this time Jack whimpers into his hand. “You had to be a fool. So now the price of the deal is going to be considerably higher.”

 “Wait,” Jack gasps. “Wait.”

 “Unfortunately, your friend will be here soon, and I really need you out of the way before that happens.” Thorne pulls the poker free.  “Goodnight, Captain.”

 Thorne brings the poker down on the back of Jack's head and a rush of _Nothing_ releases Jack from the pain.

 


	7. Blood Games

Ianto reaches the apartment block, goes past the receptionist without her blinking, guided only by instinct. A door stands open, and Ianto pauses there, looking in. Thorne is standing by a fire, leaning on the mantle and looking at the drink in his hand. “Come in, Ianto. I've been expecting you.”

Ianto stays by the door, breathing hard. “I was looking... for _you?_ ” Ianto tries to keep his voice calm, but he can't. _Desperation. Hunger. Need._

“It's all right,” Thorne says, with a gentle smile, running his fingers around the rim of the glass before putting it down. He holds out his arms. “You've found me now.”  
Ianto runs to Thorne, pressing his body against him, seeking closeness. Thorne wraps his arms round him and strokes the back of his neck . Ianto shakes with hunger and desire. When Thorne leans down to kiss him, Ianto responds, kissing hard, frantically searching for something more, biting at Thorne's lips. _The metallic taste, the warmth of blood in my mouth, the feel of your body, twisting against mine_. Thorne lifts his hand to Ianto's mouth, showing him the blood on his fingers, leaves a trail of it across his lips. “Is it what you need?”

Ianto moans, trying to fight the ache, his voice is a sob. “What's happening to me?” 

“Don't be afraid.” Thorne says. 

“I don't want...”

“Ianto.” Thorne tilts Ianto's head up and looks into his eyes. “I can't stop you wanting, but if you take this, you won't need to hurt anyone else.” 

Ianto takes Thorne's fingers into his mouth, sucking and drinking until the craving almost goes away, and Thorne pulls back his hand. The instant it is gone, Ianto wants it back, reaches for Thorne's hand again, but Thorne grips his wrists, leans in close. “ I want you.”

 _God, yes._

Thorne leads him into a bedroom, lies him down. He runs his fingers slowly over Ianto's chest, unbuttoning and pushing aside the red silk. When he closes his lips round an exposed nipple, Ianto moans softly and twists his fingers into Thorne's hair. “ Will you touch me?” Ianto whispers.

Thorne makes a show of licking his fingers before he traces the length of Ianto's growing cock. Ianto moans into Thorne's neck as Thorne presses harder. “Do you like it when I touch you?”

“Yes.”

Thorne works Ianto's trousers down over his hips, and wraps his fingers around him, stroking. “Tell me what it is you want,” Thorne says.

“I want...” his fingernails dig into Thorne's shoulder. He wants Thorne inside him, taking him completely - _not yet, not ready to complete this betrayal, not yet_ \- His own shoulder is burning. 

“I want to...” Nails, raking skin, drawing trails of red.

Thorne pushes himself into Ianto's fingers. “Do it.”

He rakes Thorne's skin, and as he does the hand on his cock strokes roughly, making him arch his back in pleasure. 

“Harder,” Thorne breathes. _Scratching, clawing, Thorne moaning as Ianto draws blood, pulling Ianto's hand against his cock, thrusting against his palm._ “Do it more, Ianto. Take what you need.”

Ianto licks at the blood on Thorne's shoulders, and he knows it is wrong, but he wants it so badly. He wants this, needs this, the feel of Thorne touching him, the feel of Thorne's blood in his mouth, burning him, _owning_ him, making him live. As he takes more, the burning in his shoulder stops. The more pain he causes, the more blood, the more Thorne is dragging him closer and closer to orgasm.

“Come for me,” Thorne says.

Ianto comes.

 _What have I done?_ In minutes after, as Thorne is changing clothes, Ianto lies still. The taste of iron is still in his mouth, blood is drying on his fingertips. In the absence of arousal, in the absence of need, he's suddenly very cold. 

And then Thorne sits beside him, brushing sweat from his eyes, and he doesn't care. _I want this. I'm happy with this_. He doesn't know how he could doubt it, with Thorne protecting him, with Thorne making love to him. He looks for a kiss, and Thorne leans down to give. At the brush of Thorne's fingers on his thigh, warmth floods him and he's hard again, craving again.

“Are you mine, Ianto?” 

“Yes,” he says.

“And your 'sort of'?” Thorne says. “What about him?”

 _A sudden rush of reality. Jack._ A sad fondness touches Ianto as he remembers, but it barely registers with the feel of Thorne's skin next to his. A tiny glimmer of hope - _you know this isn't right -_ tries to surface, but Thorne's touch, curling his fingers round me again, pushes it away. “Doesn't matter,” Ianto says.

“I wonder,” Thorne says. “How true that is.”

\-------

The ache in Jack's shoulders is so familiar for one terrifying moment he believes he's back on the Valiant, and it has been a cruel nightmare. But when he opens his eyes, and blinks away the drugs he guesses were used to keep him unconscious this long, he knows he's not.  
He's in some kind of cellar; the word dungeon leaps into his mind but he won't acknowledge it as such. He's bound, naked, between two posts. In front of him, Thorne is lounging at the end of a long black couch, barefoot with his shirt open and the ubiquitous brandy glass. At the other- and it takes Jack a moment to realise who the shadowed figure is- Ianto, bare chested, with his arm thrown along the back of the couch, mirroring Thorne's pose. 

“Hey,” Jack says. “If you wanted to play you only had to ask.”

“Welcome back,” Thorne says. “I wanted to introduce you to my family. Cut him down and hold him.”

Hands seize Jack from behind, and the ropes binding his wrists are cut. Fingers dig into the nerves on his neck and drive him to his knees. Turning, he realises the cellar is full, maybe seven or eight people, eyes glinting silver, in the candlelight. _Cat's eyes. To see in the dark_. Jack laughs.

“You seem amused,” Thorne says.

“You have a crypt. I was wondering where you keep the coffins and virgins.”

Thorne smiles. “It is rather Hammer Horror, isn't it? Still, the location is convenient and we are rarely disturbed. Except when someone from Torchwood is investigating 100 year old sewers and accidentally stumbles into my little nest.” Thorne looks at Ianto.

Ianto smiles weakly. “In fairness, I don't remember that.”

“What have you done to him?”

“He came of his own free will,” Thorne reaches out his hand to Ianto, and Jack watches in horror as he slides himself along Thorne's body, curling up against his thigh. Thorne tears the skin on his own hand and drops his arm round Ianto's shoulders, offering him his blood.  
“There.”

For one second, Ianto looks at Jack, his eyes full of doubt. Jack shakes his head slowly, and Ianto turns away from him, lapping at Thorne's fingers.

“What do you want?” Jack says.

“I've got what I want,” Thorne says. He tips Ianto's head away from his wrist and leads him to his mouth, where Ianto's lips leave a smear of blood. “But the question is, how badly do you want him back?”

Ianto settles into Thorne's arms and nuzzles at his throat. To Jack, it feels like betrayal, and it hurts. _It's not his fault. It's not_. “Undo it,” Jack says. “And I'll do whatever it is you want.”

“You'll do it anyway. The deal is, do I share him with you, or keep him to myself?”

“Go to hell,” says Jack.

Thorne gently pushes Ianto away, and steps forward, standing in front of Jack. Jack tenses, waiting for Thorne to get close enough, but he stays just out of reach. “Even a vampire life has an end,” Thorne says. “A human only sustains for so long. But there is so much life in you, Jack. May I call you Jack?” 

“Please, don't. ”

“How many lifetimes could you give me?” Thorne says. “Could you give me _forever...?_ Hold him, tight.” Thorne crouches down in front of Jack, face level with him. Thorne touches Jack's cheek with his fingers. Jack spits in his face. Thorne just smiles and wipes it away. “Please believe me, I would far rather this had happened under different circumstances.”

Jack struggles, until the moment Thorne's teeth, sink into the skin of his neck. There is pain... then a rush like every endorphin hit Jack has ever known. He tries to pull away, but although he realises he's no longer being held, he can't coax his limbs into moving. What... what the... 

“A gift,” Thorne whispers in his ear, and reaches down to run his hand between Jack's legs. Jack's body reacts, his cock growing in Thorne's hand, and he hates it. “My gift.”

As Thorne pulls away, Jack snatches uselessly for him. Over his shoulder, he sees Ianto, his knees drawn up, gnawing on his fist. Thorne sits back down on the couch and draws Ianto's head into his lap, stroking his hair..

“Enjoy,” Thorne says.

Jack is dragged down, and eight hungry mouths tear their way into his skin. The endorphins give out long before his heart does.

\------


	8. Weaponisation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto gives in, and Jack fights back

 

This time, when Jack wakes, he's lying on his side on silk sheets. His body burns as the scars heal. The room is in semi-darkness,  the light of dawn. Strands of rope snare the bedposts, but fading red marks on his wrists show him he has recently been untied. He isn't alone, Ianto is standing by the window, blinds casting lines of shadow on his face. Jack hardly dares speak. _What has he done to you..._

“Ianto,” he says, quietly.

 Ianto turns, and for a moment he moves towards him, then hesitates. “I bought you your clothes.”

 “Thanks.” Ianto throws the clothes onto the end of the bed and Jack sits up to get them. “So, “he says.  “Where do we stand?”

 Ianto doesn't answer for a long time, instead he looks away while Jack dresses. Eventually he says,  “I was worried it would be too much... even for you. So I made them stop.”

 “It's okay,” Jack reaches out, and Ianto comes to him hesitantly. When Jack drags Ianto's mouth against his, Ianto pulls away, and Jack lets him go, _aching_. “I see.”  

 Ianto tips his head back and sighs at the ceiling. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I've made a choice. Being with him, it's like standing next to a God.”

 Jack hurts at how much he understands. “I never put much stock in Gods.” Jack says.  “He's done something to you, this isn't you.”

 “No,” Ianto says.  “I'm still me. Same old me. Just....”  Ianto presses a key into Jack's hand.  “If you go now you'll be able to get out. They're all asleep in their coffins downstairs.”

 “You're kidding me.”

“About the coffins, yes. His receptionist will see you if you leave the front way.  Go down the stairs at the end of the corridor,  through the cellar, that's where the gate to the sewer is. Take the key and go.”

 “You're coming with me.”

 Ianto shakes his head. “He won't be asleep long.”

 “If I have to knock you out and carry you over my shoulder, Ianto Jones, I will.”

 “He only got to you through me,” Ianto says. “Listen to me Jack. He could have just grabbed you off the street but he couldn't risk that going wrong. I'm his bargaining chip and while I'm still in the picture you don't want to fight him. Sooner or later you'll decide that this is bigger than me.  I don't want you to make that choice, and I don't want to be there when you do.”

Jack has a desperate notion of what Ianto is saying. _Don't you dare._   “Come with me...”

 “I can't. He hasn't let me take blood from anyone but him. He gives me just enough to stop the craving, not enough for me to change. Away from him, away from his influence, I can think, but it would only be a matter of time before I killed someone and ended up ...” Ianto lets his voice die away.  “That isn't what I want to be. I can already feel it - I want to hurt you.”

“But if you let me go...”

 “I'll tell him you made me do it.  I'll talk him round. ”

 _Bollocks you will._ “He'll kill you.”

“Maybe,” Ianto says.  “Or strip away whatever's left of me. But then I'm out of the picture, and you can fix the problem.”  Ianto pulls Jack into a kiss, a deep, longing kiss that tastes like goodbye. “ Please, Jack. Please go while there's still enough of me left to love you.”

Jack's throat burns now, and he forces away what may too quickly become tears. _Alone, I'll be faster. I'll get out of here. Get to the hub, come back with some heavy hitters, get Owen to sort you out somehow. With you unconscious the chances of either of us getting out reduce. But if I leave you... If I leave to wipe this bastard off the planet, you won't be here when I get back._

“Ianto,” Jack says, making him look up at him. “You stay alive for two hours, you hear me. Two hours. I don't care how you do it. You'd better be here when I get back”

 He claims Ianto's mouth with his own, trying not to think of it as _one last time_. Then he is gone without letting himself look back.

    -------------

  

 Gwen sees him first, and leaps to her feet, shaking Tosh who's asleep in her lap on the couch.

 “Jack, where the hell have you been? Where's Ianto?”

 Jack carries on striding through the hub and reaches the armoury.  “I'm going back for him.”

 “Christ,” Owen says, stirring from his dozing position on his desk. “What time is it.”

 “T minus ninety,” Jack says.

 “What's happening?” Gwen says.

 “Ninety to what?” Owen says rubbing his eyes.

 “I need to know whatever you found out about vampires,” Jack says.  “Anything.”

 Tosh has found her feet and has reached her desk.  “They had one at Torchwood one for eight years,” she says.  “Most of the data was lost and what I could find wasn't much help.”

 “Tell me,” says Jack, and pulls the pulse cannon from it's rack.

 “Subject 34762 / 4,” she says.  “Subject's aliases, Thorne Gilchrist or  Thorne Gilmour.”

 “Well that figures,” Jack says.

 “Resistant to all known energy weapons. Recovered from severe injuries inflicted through bullets, bladed weapons, napalm- provided he was given fresh blood. ”

 “I put two bullets into Ianto's shoulder and he didn't so much as hesitate,” Owen says.  

 “They didn't want to actually kill him, as he was too valuable as a research subject, but they tortured him for a good portion of those years. He escaped in 2003.”

 _I could almost feel sorry for him. Except for what he's done... is doing... to Ianto._  Jack puts the pulse cannon back on the rack and takes down the Winchester instead. “Great. So we still have no idea how to kill him.”

“A stake through the heart would be traditional.” Owen says. 

“Only in Western mythology,” Tosh says.

 “So, let me get this straight,” says Owen. “Torchwood used to have a vampire, and now he's back to settle the score?”

 “There's something else,” Tosh gets off her chair and comes to stand at the railing. “Last night when I was trying to modify the tracker to compensate for the EM effects of the 'vampire field'; from the readings I took, I can scan directly for the energy now.” She hesitates, and Jack knows there is something more. “I got some strange readings from the thing in your office.  Whatever it's made of severely disrupts the field.”

 At this, Jack looks up, and starts walking back towards Tosh. “Disrupts, how?”

 “I'd say it was specifically designed to do so. Like it was part of a weapon of some kind. An alien weapon against vampires.”

 “Can you turn it into a weapon?”

 Tosh looks at him. “I could... duct-tape it to a stick?”

 “Do it.”

 Tosh looks surprised, but runs off to do it anyway. Owen takes his turn now, standing on the step.  “I might have a solution to Ianto's condition,” he says.  “We freeze him.”

 “Is that a solution or a time buying measure?”

 “Time is about all I can offer you,” Owen says.  “I'm fairly sure that once the infection reaches a particular stage it permanently writes itself into the DNA.”

 “It isn't an infection,” says Jack.

 “It is if you consider it behaves like a virus. Hijacking a cell to make more versions of itself,” Owen says.  “Changing the host to ensure it's own survival.”

 “Nice theory, do something with it. Treat the energy as the driving force,  the 'contaminated' blood just gives a template. I don't trust the source of that information, but it's all I've got.”

 Owen disappears into the autopsy bay, and Tosh emerges from Jack's office with the shard of metal between her fingers. _It doesn't affect you,_ Jack thinks. _Only me._   _Even_ fragments _of Time Lord technology hate me._  She sits at her desk and starts taping.

 “Where are you going?” Jack says, as Gwen walks past him towards the armoury.

 “If you're going to get Ianto back, I'm coming with you.” She comes out with the M249 machine gun.

 “No,” he says.  “I need you here in case something goes wrong.”

 She shakes her head. “No way. If this was something you could handle on your own you'd have done it already. I'm doing this Jack.”

 “Fine,” says Jack. “They're hard, they're fast, and they don't stay down. They mess with your head. Shoot first, shoot often, cuff them when they're down - and don't hang around.”

 “Right,” she says.

 “Done,” says Tosh, and holds up the fragment, now lashed onto a steel handle giving it the dimensions of a knife. Jack steps back and lets her hand it to Gwen.

 “Keep hold of that,” says Jack. “Until I ask for it.”

 Gwen pockets the makeshift weapon in her combat jacket. As Jack moves to leave, Tosh gets up.  “I'm driving,” she says.  “Because it sounds like you might need a quick get away.”

“I'm not asking you to do this.”

 “I know,” says Tosh.  “I'm doing it for Ianto.”

     ------

 Thorne's room is dark, and he's lying in the shadows, pale against dark sheets.  Ianto strips off his clothes, and lies next to him, running his fingers down his chest. Thorne pulls him against his body, guiding Ianto's mouth against his throat.  “Is this what you want?”

 “Yes,” Ianto says, and nips at he skin.

 “And this?” Thorne runs his hand down Ianto's chest and strokes his cock.

 "Yes... I want that too.” Ianto rests his hands on either side of Thorne's head, and sits across his hips. 

 “What else is it you want?”

 “I want you to take me.  Completely.” _Complete the betrayal- complete everything_.

 “Then bite harder...” Thorne says. “You still have baby teeth.”

 Ianto tries, but the motion is still too alien too him, still frightens him. Even when Thorne rakes his fingernails across his back, almost enough for him to forget, he doesn't _need_ it enough to bite through skin.  “I can't.”

 “I have been too generous,” Thorne laughs, turning his head, and biting the side of Ianto's neck. Ianto moans, struggling for just a moment until he feels heat rush through him.  He slumps sideways, Thorne moving with him, still draining his life and filling him with pleasure, until he's lying on his back with Thorne above him, smiling predatorially. It's his blood on Thorne's lips now and he _wants_.

 “Now do you want it enough?”

 Ianto tries to lean up, fasten his teeth onto Thorne's skin, but Thorne holds him down by pressing his fingers to Ianto's throat.

 “You let him go, didn't you?”

 “I'm sorry... please... I need.”

 “Do you need to forget?”  Thorne pushes Ianto's thighs apart with his knee.  “Or do you want me to _fuck_ you, so you can remember you betrayed us both?”

 Ianto wants Thorne inside him. He wants blood. He wants to be forgiven. He's shaking because he can't move and the man he needs is holding him down, holding everything.  “I'm sorry.  Please...”

 Thorne touches Ianto's cheek almost tenderly, licks his fingers and reaches down. Ianto whimpers as Thorne's fingers tease at his entrance. “If I give you what you need, will you die for me?”

  _A thousand times. A thousand million times, Oh God._ “Yes.”

 Ianto closes his eyes, moaning in pain as Thorne pulls back his fingers and pushes his way inside him. When Thorne leans forward, he's pressing his wrist against Ianto's lips, and Ianto tears at the skin without hesitation, waiting to surrender... waiting to forget. _Oh, so close. So very close..._

 Thorne looks down at him.  “And the most exquisite part of this is that you'll know exactly what you're doing but you won't be able to stop.”


	9. Denouement and Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes back for Ianto, but does Ianto want to be rescued?

 

The fire-fight in the sewer is brief and messy. It ends as Jack expects it to, with seven of Thorne's 'family' cuffed in bloody piles, and Gwen out of ammo, a smear of her own blood dripping from a gash above her eye, leaning against the cellar wall. Jack rests his hand on her shoulder.  “You okay?”

 She looks up and nods. “I'll be fine. I've had worse. Get Ianto.” She presses the knife into his hand, hilt first. He slides it into his pocket as she hugs him tightly. “You'd better come back. You'd both better come back.”

 “Go back to the SUV,” he says.

 “What about them?” She points at the bodies.

 “I guess they stop moving when they run out of blood,” Jack says.  “I'll deal with them.”

 She stands up, pauses and looks back at him. “Good luck.”

 He salutes, and grins. _It's how I say goodbye._

 Tosh is still tracking Ianto's signal to this location and tracing the energy itself. Jack knows they are still close. His only route now is into the basement of Thorne's building where his 'dungeon' is.

 “I see you've come back,” Thorne says, sitting on the couch and  looking across at him. Ianto is curled up on his lap, naked, shaking and bloodstained. Jack raises the shotgun, knows he should fire immediately but he's seen this before on the Valiant and it paralyses him for a moment too long. _Shall I snap his neck? They're so fragile, these ordinary human bodies. Have you ever watched one of your friends die in front of your eyes? Oh yes, of course you have, I killed the pretty Japanese one last week._

 Ianto moves, sits across Thorne's knees, and blocks any clear shot Jack had. Ianto turns his head, and his eyes meet Jack's. He's crying as he mouths ' _Do it.'_

“Ianto,” Jack says.  “Move out of the way.” _Don't make me do this. For the love of... just give me something._

“No,” Ianto says, and presses protectively against Thorne's chest. “You'll have to kill me too.”

Thorne smiles and runs his fingers down Ianto's back, and Ianto moves up to kiss his cheek. “You see,” Thorne says. “I always have the upper hand.”

 “No,” says Jack.  “You don't.” He pulls the trigger.

 Thorne howls in rage as the shot mostly ploughs into the couch, but not enough to spare Ianto. Ianto cries out from the impact, recoiling and leaving Thorne exposed. Jack fires again, this time straight into Thorne, but someone jumps him from behind before he can get off another. _Thorne's eighth family member, the pretty receptionist, wrestling with him for the shotgun._   

Ianto whimpers, clutching his side and Jack catches sight of the mass of blood between his fingers. _I have to move fast._ Jack lets go of the shotgun and reaches into his pocket for the knife, driving it backwards into his assailant and then running forward, letting his momentum drag it free.  Ianto lurches upright, trying to stop him, but Jack backhands him on his way past, and drives the knife straight into Thorne's chest. 

For an agonisingly long moment nothing happens. It's so long a moment that Thorne actually begins to laugh, until he's cut short by the ripple of energy forming around the handle, circling in towards his body. When it contacts his skin, Thorne screams, and Jack throws himself clear, not knowing what to expect as the energy sparks its way through Thorne's twitching body.

The result is silence. 

 Jack pulls Ianto into his arms, holding his head against his chest as Thorne decays before his eyes, leaving only the dessicated corpse. The knife falls free, and clatters onto the floor.

“Jack?” Ianto whispers against his chest.

“Hey,” Jack says, changing his position so Ianto can look up at him. The pulse he is trying to casually feel for at the side of Ianto's neck is thready, and blood is till oozing out onto his other hand.

“You shot me.”

Jack lifts his hand from the side of his neck, and brushes his forehead.  “Owen gave me the idea,” he says.  “I figured you'd healed from his shot.”

Ianto smiles. “He's just trying... to get me back.”

Ianto closes his eyes, and Jack taps him on the cheek.  “Ianto. Stay with me here.”

“Sorry to ruin your plan.” Ianto's spitting blood from the side of his mouth as he speaks.  “I need blood... to create the energy.. to heal. I don't think I've got that much left.”

Jack presses his wrist against Ianto's lips.  “I've plenty.”

“No.” Ianto looks up at him, then turns his head away. “Your blood isn't... contaminated. I'll become like them.”

“Damn it, Ianto. I don't care. We'll find a way to make it okay.” Jack turns Ianto back to face him.  “I'm not watching you die again.” 

Jack searches around him, finds a shard of something sharp and rakes it over his wrist, watching as the blood rises into the cut.  Jack thinks in that moment that if Ianto refuses, he is going to walk away from Torchwood, walk away from everything and never come back.

 

Ianto latches on to his wrist and drinks.

 

  -----------

 

 Owen shakes his head.  “I just don't know, Jack, I'm sorry.”

 “There isn't anything you can do?”

 “There's a lot of things I can do,” Owen says.  “All or none of which might kill him. ”

 Ianto swings his legs over the side of the medical table, and sits on the edge. He drops his voice into a melodramatic tone. “I'm destined to walk the Earth forever as a creature of the night.”

 “It would seem so.” Owen looks at his readouts. “Regular transfusions of the fresh red stuff should keep you ticking over, and so long as you stay away from garlic and crucifixes, you'll be fine. Actually, you'll be fine even with with the garlic and crucifixes.”

 “But you can still put me in storage, if you need to?”

 “It won't come to that,” Jack says.

 “If we have to yes,” Owen says. “Give us time to work something out. It might take a few days, it might take a few decades.  Frankly I'd  take the option that doesn't involve being unconscious in a drawer forever, but that's just me.”

 “Right,” says Ianto, and stands up. “There's a few things I need to put in order.”

 “Whoa,” says Jack, following up the steps.  “You _want_ us to freeze you?”

“Can we...”Ianto says, gesturing 'talk'.

“My office,” says Jack.

Through the doors, Jack sees Owen scoot Gwen and Tosh out of the Hub, looking back briefly over his shoulder. For the first time since they returned, he and Ianto are alone. Jack sits down. “So talk to me.”

“I don't think I can do this,” says Ianto, leaning against Jack's desk.

“Do what? You heard Owen.”

“It's not just the blood. It's what wanting it makes me _feel_. Vampires are predators, Jack.  The spark isn't just energy... it's something _old_. Something _alien_.”  Ianto picks up a pen from Jack's desk and plays with it idly. “And it's inside me.”

“You'll get through it, you're not a man who quits.”

“No.” Ianto pauses. “Not even when I'm hurting everyone else and I should really let go.”

“You do that again and I'll lock you up myself.” 

“And then there's us.” The pen slips through Ianto's fingers, and onto the floor. He spends a long time picking it up.  “Did you think, when you brought me back, that you were making me dependent? Trapping me alongside you forever?”

 _You think I would have done it if I had?_ “No. I just didn't want you to die.”

“If you hadn't thought I could heal, would you still have shot me, to get to Thorne?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes. It matters. You're just protecting yourself by trying to protect everyone else.”

“Yes.  I would have shot you.” _This admission hurts less than it should but it still_ hurts _._ “This thing we do...” Jack gestures at the Hub. “It's worth fighting for. It's worth losing people you love for. And I'd have shot Gwen, or Tosh, or Owen if the situation had been different.”

Ianto chews his lip for a moment.  “Do you love me?”

“I love all of you.” He points at the door to make it clear he means everybody. Ianto shakes his head at the answer, and Jack accuses himself. _And you still can't say it. You're still keeping it back._   _Stand up and say it._   _Find  a way to express that he is more than nothing- but less than everything even if it means he walks away._

Jack stands, and takes Ianto's hand,  “I don't know if I love you, Ianto. Not in the way you mean, not in the way you want. I don't even know if I can. But if I'd lost you today, I don't know how I'd have been able to come back to this. I would have. I'd have to. I just don't know how. I guess, when it comes to you I don't know anything.”

Ianto looks at him, and Jack can't bear the sadness in his eyes.  “Can't you just say yes or no?”

“There is no 'yes or no'.” _I can't win this conversation. I can't win this. I'm losing you and that's probably the best thing for everyone concerned._  “If you decide you want us to freeze you, I'll respect that. I've disregarded what you wanted in favour of myself already and I won't do it again.  I'll fill out the paperwork; right now, if you want. We can have you tucked away by midnight.”

Jack lets go of Ianto's hand and opens the desk drawer, pulling out a stack of forms. Ianto catches his arm, presses his hand down on the papers and holds him still. 

Jack has barely registered his own tears until Ianto's fingers catch the dampness.  “You're crying? Over me?”

 _Just another weapon in the Harkness emotional blackmail arsenal? Maybe once, when tears and life were cheaper._  Jack presses Ianto's hand against his face. “Please, Ianto. Stay.”

Ianto reaches down, pulls the papers from under Jack's hand and rips them in half, throwing them over his shoulder. “Damn.” Ianto says.  “Looks like I'm staying.”

Jack  drags Ianto against him and holds him, just remembering how he feels in his arms and how close he had come. Ianto responds to the embrace, his hands wrapping round Jack's waist, one hand trailing between his legs until Jack lifts it to his chest.  “I need to hold you,” he says. “Just hold you for a minute.” 

Ianto's other hand finds the back of his neck and gently strokes there. Then Jack tips Ianto's chin, and claims his mouth, kissing him slowly, thoroughly. It's been a long time since he's been thorough, a mistake he intends to rectify.

Jack unfastens one button of Ianto's shirt at a time, slowly revealing the skin.  He pauses then to look, trailing his fingers over Ianto's ribs and down the fine line of hair at his navel, before sliding his hands up to slips the purple silk over his shoulders. Ianto is faster, pushing both hands under Jack's shirt and lifting both shirt and t-shirt over his head in one go. Then their lips are back together, and Ianto is holding him into the kiss, making a desperate noise in his throat as Jack strokes his back.  The sound goes straight between Jack's thighs, followed by Ianto's hand, and Jack moans as he pulls away from the kiss to rest his cheek against Ianto's. For a moment he almost grazes his teeth along the collar bone, but he stops himself, instead making it a light kiss.  Ianto does something with his fingers Jack can't remember him ever doing before, he presses into the touch, reaching down to undo his trousers and feel him against his skin.

“Bed,” Ianto says.  “Bed. Please.”

They separate long enough – and the separation is almost painful-to find their way, and then Jack can't hold back any more, can't stop himself pulling at  their remaining clothes, pulling Ianto naked onto the bed beside him so he can touch him everywhere, brushing his fingers over his cock, his balls, his back, his hips. Ianto moans into his mouth, whispers Jack's name, returns the touches.

Jack trails his tongue from Ianto's shoulder, down over his chest, over his stomach. When he takes Ianto's cock between his lips again, Ianto is trembling, sprawling his legs wide. Jack pulls up onto his knees – _not close enough, not nearly close enough_ \- and he realises he can't be with Ianto the way he wants, not from here.  He flips them both, lying beneath Ianto and looking up, reaching up to caress his face.

 “I want you,” Jack says, reaching out just long enough to find lube, pressing it into Ianto's trembling hand.  “I want you inside me.”

As Ianto slides his fingers into him, Jack moans, clutching at his thighs. Ianto goes slow,  preparing him until he _begs -_ _please Ianto, I need to feel you_ \- twisting beneath Ianto's hand. With a wordless exchange, Ianto moves, pressing the tip of his cock into Jack's waiting body.  Jack takes the discomfort, looks into Ianto's eyes and laces his fingers with his, tightening the grip as Ianto slowly moves inside him, filling him. 

“You feel amazing,” Ianto breathes, his eyes closed. “Oh fuck, Jack.”

“Look at me.”

Ianto does, and Jack keeps looking there, looking as the pleasure builds, as Jack takes his cock in his hand and strokes in time with Ianto inside him. All there is between them now is heat, and sweat, and the constant _pressure_ , and the brilliance of Ianto's eyes as he's panting, thrusting over and over  - _into me, God Ianto, don't stop-_ until Jack can't hold back and he comes with the words _I think I love you_ escaping his lips. Ianto cries out, releases inside him, crying and shaking as he collapses onto Jack's chest and Jack holds him there until they both remember how to breathe.

For the first time ever, they sleep in each other's arms.

 

  -------

** Coda **

 

Jack sits down, and for the first time in two days goes through his email. Three complaints from UNIT, four from the local constabulary (one suggesting he might know something about a massive gas explosion beneath an expensive apartment conversion), his Fortean Times subscription update, and three hundred and twenty four offers for bigger breasts, bigger penises, and discount Viagra.  The research from Ianto, about the wrapping paper on the box, is also waiting unopened.  Sighing, Jack opens the attachment, and sets the smart search to go through the names of the company's customers.  It flags a name almost immediately, a name that unnerves him, even more than the accusation he might need a bigger penis.

 

Lucy Saxon

 

He leans back and looks at the fragment, now without it's handle and waiting to be archived. 

_This isn't over by a long stretch._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES FROM 2008
> 
> There you go. From here on in we'd be in strictly AU territory, if the series wound on from this point. I've never felt the urge to write a firmly AU series... until now, so maybe someone's unleashed a monster. 
> 
> TV canon speaks of the Great Vampires as earlier enemies of Gallifrey (Tom Baker Era, 'State of Decay') and have variously featured in New Adventures novels and random assorted canon and fanon spin offs. 
> 
> And speaking of monsters, here's a funny thing. Apparently, there is a Nordic Vampire called Thorne in an Anne Rice Novel. I swear it is a total coincidence having never read it. As there is no such thing as coincidence I have to assume that Thorne is actually real..... (!)
> 
> And speaking of Thorne, he is ably played in my head for me by the delicious Julian Sands, as seen in Warlock.


End file.
